


The Van

by merrabeth



Series: Fic!Febuary [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:41:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrabeth/pseuds/merrabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The van was just another ordinary van, but on this summer day we take a closer look- where the van matters most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Van

**Author's Note:**

> (It's about the first time they kissed:P)

The van, for all intents and purposes, was just another ordinary van. It was white, clean, and probably rental. There was a license plate to prove that. And where this van came from or where ever its future lies is utterly insignificant. But for that one summer morning, we take a closer look at this van. This ordinary van.

It was 8:15 AM. This van may have been through a lot of slams of its doors, but we only care about this one, as Mickey climbed into the passenger seat, mumbling “shotgun” as if it was already implied. He leaned his head on his fist that was held up by his elbow on the window sill. He glances out in the side mirror, as many would do in any car, let alone this one van. And it doesn’t matter how many times what appeared in that mirror has given someone a certain reaction; all that matters is the tingling feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach as he saw Gallagher with the old man. And  _fuck_. Things are closer than they appear. They must be louder too. Many words have flown through the walls of the van, but the relevance in them don’t compare to what Mickey heard.

“This is still a really stupid idea,” Ian noted matter-of-factly.

“Don’t worry, Red,” said the doctor, placing one of his aging hands on the boy’s shoulder. From the angle they stood, he leaned in closer. “I’ll be following from a distance. If anything happens, I’ll be right behind you.” Then he was back at arms distance, patting Ian’s shoulder. The old man snuck a glance in the mirror, glaring down Mickey while giving him a non-committal wave. And there could be many times when the mirror has reflected this image before, but Mickey plastering on a smile and giving Geriatric Viagroid the “U” tattooed finger is the one that means the most.

Mickey rested his head against the seat while his cousins rustled the van as they climbed in. Who knows how many memories have seeped into the headrest of that seat. Who cares? The only thing that mattered was the memories practically leaking out of Mickey. And the fluidity of each thought was scary. Mickey didn’t do scary. The tingle in his pit bubbled more as he thought about Mandy and the kisses she’d given Ian. And as Ian settled in the driver’s seat, Mickey couldn’t help but stare at the skin right under his jaw; it was nothing more than a peck-well, maybe a little bit more- but her mark was etched under his skin. And he looked at the second mark resting right next his lips,  _dangerously_  close to his lips. And he couldn’t help but replay the statement in his head over and over again.

_He isn’t afraid to kiss me_.

He averted his eyes to look out the window before anyone noticed the contemplation on his face. Mickey didn’t do scary and he wasn’t afraid.

The drive was fairly quiet minus the rowdy backseat passengers playing a card game their repair guy showed them.

There’s no telling how many times the van has been up north, but today was the day that mattered. The van was backed into the parkway; the van was being used for a mission. A mission, Mickey couldn’t help but shake, that was implemented by Gallagher’s fuck buddy- no, _comrade_. Mickey’s fingers were itching as he opened the bag and began to pass out the guns.

“Woah, guys,” Ian stopped them from the driver seat. “No guns. It’s just some drunk old lady.”

Yeah, the drunk old lady that was married to the guy he was fucking.

He glanced up at Ian and chewed on his lip, looking back, look anywhere but in that van. “ _Was_ married”. And now that geriatric was off the hook…

Mickey took the guns back, throwing them back into the bag that sat by the door in the van. He followed his cousins, starting to feel that high that came with any criminal activity. His heart raced faster than he could handle, and his heart was what led the next actions. “You guys go on,” he whispered, already creeping back as the other Milkoviches began to do what they did best.

The van, rather ordinary; so ordinary, in fact, that you wouldn’t expect much. You wouldn’t expect murder of any sort. But in that van, there lied a blood stain in the trunk, practically screaming the words that Mickey had said. And there in that van lied the first crash; a crash of the heart, for it was only a second, maybe two, as Mickey had jumped in planting a kiss on the red head’s lips. Only a second or two away from what their lives were, where their lives were headed, or how they even got to this point. Just like the van, it looked to be just another ordinary kiss. But Mickey knew. As he smiled, running back to the house- not without a flip of the finger, of course- the van fills with the smile of Ian. The mark that Mickey has made burns under his skin the surface.

And it was only 9:15 AM.


End file.
